


Then and Now

by palepinkpores



Category: Sex Education (TV)
Genre: Childbirth, F/M, Jeankob, Motherhood, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:36:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29386401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palepinkpores/pseuds/palepinkpores
Summary: Chronicling Jean's differing experiences of becoming a mother.
Relationships: Jean Milburn/Jakob Nyman, Jean Milburn/Remi Milburn
Comments: 36
Kudos: 79





	1. Then: Before

“Remi?” Jean called. “Remi, can you give me a hand please?”

She stood stock-still, listening for any sign of movement coming from her husband’s study. After a few seconds, she heard the clinking of a glass on a wooden surface and the creak of the study door as it opened. Remi soon appeared in the doorway of their bedroom to find Jean struggling to fasten the zip on the side of her evening dress. She had bought it especially for the event she and Remi were attending that night, beginning her search weeks in advance and spending a ridiculous amount of time browsing the independent boutiques in their quaint little town. Eventually, Jean had settled on a white, wrap dress with an all-over floral print of oranges and navy blues. It hit just below her knee and had drop cap sleeves, which had begun to catch her under her arms the moment she shimmied into it.

“I can’t fasten the zip,” she explained, in reply to his questioning look.

Remi crossed the room and peered at the opening just under her arm.

“If you hold it together, I can pull the zip,” Jean told him.

“Breathe in, Jeanie,” Remi teased, earning smirk and a roll of her eyes.

She felt him attempt to close the gap just above the place in which the zip strained and she began to pull the zip up. It was a slow process that did in fact require a great deal of breathing in on the part of Jean.

“Hold it together,” Jean gasped when the zip refused to move.

“I’m trying,” Remi responded. “But it’s going to rip.”

She sucked in a deeper breath and urged the zip on while Remi continued to tempt the material closer and then, with a triumphant cry from Remi, they managed to completely fasten the dress.

“How does it feel?” he asked.

“Tight,” Jean winced.

She turned to look at herself in their full length mirror and couldn’t help but be disappointed at what she saw. Frankly, at eight and a half months pregnant, she looked huge.

“You look beautiful,” Remi told her, patting her bump affectionately.

“I look awful. I’m massive.”

“You’re pregnant, Jeanie, that’s what happens towards the end,” he said over his shoulder as he disappeared into the bathroom.

Tears stung her eyes as Jean continued to stare at her reflection. She couldn’t believe how much she had changed in just a few months, especially when she had been relatively small throughout the majority of her pregnancy. Her eighth month had hit and she had suddenly ballooned in all areas.

Using the pad of each thumb, Jean caught the tears that had begun to spill from her eyes, determined not to spoil the full face of makeup she had spent the last half an hour perfecting. An uncomfortable flush of heat rushed through her body and humiliation reddened her cheeks. She had been looking forward to the evening ahead since they were invited: their publishing company’s tenth birthday celebration at a fancy hotel in the city.

She and Remi hadn’t had many evenings out together since she found out she was pregnant. At first, her chronic morning sickness and fatigue had made it impossible, then Remi’s book tour had taken him out of the country for months on end and she had spent the majority of her second trimester alone. She had craved the chance to dress up, to eat excellent food with even better company and held the hope of reconnecting with Remi again, in whichever way they chose to, when they got home. But there, standing in front of the mirror with her swollen body and her face full of hormone-induced spots, she felt so incredibly foolish.

“Jeanie? Jean!”

“Oh!” Jean gasped, realising that Remi had returned to their room, freshly showered and shaved with a towel wrapped around his waist, attempting to speak to her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, pulling a clean pair of Armani boxers from his drawer in the dresser.

“Nothing,” Jean sniffed.

She smiled unconvincingly at him through the mirror as he begun to get dressed.

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” Remi observed, eyeing the orange heels she had been planning to wear with the dress. “Were you struggling with your shoes again? Because you know I can help you with those- that’s one thing I can actually do to help.”

Jean tilted her head at him, grateful for his offer.

“No, it’s not the shoes, though I wouldn’t be able to reach to put them on by myself anyway… I’ve been thinking and I’ve decided to stay at home instead of coming with you tonight.”

“What?” Remi’s head shot up; he was in the middle as fastening his belt buckle. “Why?”

“Because _look_ at me, Remi,” Jean groaned, turning to face her husband. “I look vile and… I think the baby must have grown overnight because this dress doesn’t fit me anymore. I’m so uncomfortable.”

She begun to cry again, not bothering to save her makeup as Remi sighed and opened his palms in exasperation.

“We should have left the house ten minutes ago and now you’re telling me this? Jean…” he sighed.

“I do really want to go,” Jean quivered. “I’ve been looking forward to it for months and you know how long it took me to find this dress, but it’s too tight, Remi, and my feet are sore just from wearing slippers all day.”

“They’re expecting us, we can’t cancel now, they’ll have already started!”

“I know… why don’t you just go without me? I’ll be asleep by eight o’clock anyway.”

“It doesn’t really sound like I’ve got much of a choice in the matter,” he grumbled, continuing to get dressed.

Jean sat heavily on the bed, defeated.

“Don’t be like that, please Remi,” she begged. “I just can’t face it tonight. When the baby’s born, we’ll be able to have more evenings out together.”

“I doubt that, Jeanie. Don’t you know your life ends when you have children?”

With that, he turned and stalked out of the room.

“It doesn’t have to,” Jean whimpered, placing her hand on the solid peak of her stomach.

***

Jean paced the kitchen, anxious and slightly aggravated. She went between checking the time on the clock on the wall and peering out of the window to see if she could spot Remi’s car. He had been due to pick her up twenty minutes earlier and accompany her to her blood test at the hospital. They hadn’t spoken much since Saturday night but he had promised her on his way out the door that morning that he would be back in time to accompany her.

Earlier in her pregnancy, she had been slightly anaemic so had been having regular blood tests to keep an eye on her iron levels. Jean had her heart set on giving birth at home and had been a stickler for taking her iron supplements and attending each and every one of her appointments to ensure that she was doing everything she possibly could to make it happen. Sighing, Jean decided to give Remi five more minutes and then she would have to make her own way to the hospital and just hope he would show up. Sensing their mother’s anxious state, the baby was squirming relentlessly, much to the aggravation of her bladder. After another look out of the window for good measure, Jean relented and hurried to the bathroom.

As soon as she sat down on the toilet seat, Jean heard the rattle of the back door as it closed.

“Thank fuck for that,” she murmured as she finished off and washed her hands.

“There you are!” Remi gestured as she made her way back to the kitchen. “We’re going to be late.”

“I know, I’ve been waiting for you,” Jean almost hissed, wrapping herself in her large, padded coat.

“I’ve had to leave work to take you to this appointment,” he said, clearly irritated.

She decided against replying to save the hassle of an argument and walked through the door Remi held for her without a word.

They were silent through the drive, with Jean doing nothing but hold onto the underside of her seat as Remi broke every speed limit there was before arriving at the hospital with just three minutes before Jean was due to be seen.

“Shit!” he sighed, upon seeing the queue for the ticket machine. “Why don’t you go in and I’ll meet you there.”

Jean nodded at his suggestion.

“It’s the same place as usual,” she told him as they parted ways halfway across the car park.

Jean entered the building and walked down the corridors that had become so familiar to her as her pregnancy progressed. Once she had checked in with the receptionist, she took a seat in the waiting room with a few other expectant mothers: two couples and one younger woman with someone who Jean assumed was her mother. She was the only one who was alone and, though she knew that Remi would soon be with her, she couldn’t help but feel self-conscious.

“Jean Milburn?”

She turned to see that a midwife had come out of one of the side rooms and smiled warmly at her when they made eye contact.

Jean stood and made her way over to her.

“My husband is just paying for parking,” Jean explained as she followed her into the room and sat down on the trolly. “He won’t be long.”

“This won’t take very long either, so don’t worry about any of it, Jean,” the midwife smiled reassuringly.

She introduced herself as Kate and ran through a list of questions that Jean was more than accustomed to answering at the beginning of each of her appointments. Kate then asked Jean to take her coat off and roll up the sleeve of her jumper while she eased a pair of gloves on and set up the equipment she would need to take the sample.

“Okay, Jean, you might feel a little scratch,” Kate said and Jean looked towards white wall on the other side of the room, wrinkling her nose slightly at the feeling. “And that’s it, well done.”

Kate taped a cotton bud to Jean’s arm to stem the slight bleeding while she took the blood sample over to the desk.

“That’s it! Your results should be with your GP by tomorrow, so give them a ring in the afternoon,” she smiled. “Do you have any questions or anything you’d like to discuss?”

“Erm, no, no thank you,” Jean said, forcing herself to smile back.

She quickly rolled the sleeve of her jumper back down and scrambled back into her coat.

“If there is anything you think of, please do ring your midwife and she will be able to help you with whatever you need.” Kate said, crossing the room to open the door for Jean. “And, if I don’t see you before your baby’s born, good luck with everything. You’re going to be a great mum.”

“Thank you,” Jean said, feeling slightly dazed as she returned to the waiting room to find that Remi still wasn’t there.

She hurried through the double doors and down the corridor before she turned the corner and bumped straight into Remi, who had been hurrying towards her.

“Oh, Jesus!” Jean exhaled, placing her hand on her chest. “Remi!”

“Are you okay?” he asked, holding her by the shoulders to help steady her.

“Yes… that was it, I’m all finished,” she said guiltily.

“I’ve _just_ paid for parking,” Remi stated. “And that was it?”

“It was just a blood test and they’re usually done quite quickly,” Jean told him, remembering that he had never actually been with her for one of her blood tests. “I didn’t have any questions and I didn’t keel over so I was free to go.”

“For fuck’s sake!” Remi groaned as they started to walk back to the car together. “If I’d have known that I wouldn’t have cancelled one of my regulars for this afternoon.”

Jean shook her head, exasperated as she waddled along as quickly as she could, attempting to match his pace.

“You’d have known if this wasn’t the first one you showed the slightest bit of interest in coming to with me,” she retorted.

“Oh, don’t start with all that again. You said yourself they’re over with in seconds and it’s not like I’ve missed anything important like…”

“The twenty week scan,” Jean filled in. “You were in America for that weren’t you? So I just went by myself.”

They reached the automatic doors and, once they were outside, Remi began to stride purposely towards the car.

“Remi!” Jean called, falling behind. “Will you please slow down?”

“Why?” he asked over his shoulder. “So you can give me a hard time about the scan again? You know America wasn’t optional. You know I needed to be there for the book, the book you’ve shown next to no interest in since it’s been published.”

“I have shown interest in the book,” Jean panted.

“When?”

“Remi, I _have_ but I’m pregnant and I’m trying to get everything sorted out by myself before the baby comes!”

They reached their car and stood face to face across the bonnet.

“You love to make out like I don’t care,” Remi said. “You always play the victim and what’s the narrative this week? You and the baby against the world? You left me to go to the publishing event by myself not three nights ago!”

“I didn’t _want_ you to go alone, but there’s no way I could have got through a big night like that. Not with the state my back’s been in and my ankles are massive- you even said so yourself.”

Remi looked at her and said nothing.

“Please don’t make me feel worse than I already do,” Jean begged, her voice flattened.

“Let’s just get in the car,” Remi said. “I need to take you home and get back to work to see if there’s anything left of my afternoon that I can salvage.”

Jean nodded, feeling like an idiot as she welled up once again. She opened the passenger door and awkwardly lowered herself into the seat, just about getting her seatbelt secured before he began to drive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why I've decided it's a good idea to start writing something else but I've had the idea for this for a few months and I know, if I don't get it written now, I probably never will!
> 
> Jakob _will_ be in chapter two!


	2. Now: Before

It was Valentine’s Day and she was worried he had forgotten. Jakob had been working all weekend doing odd jobs for their recently widowed neighbour who lived down the hill. Mrs Johnson’s husband had unexpectedly died ten days earlier and, when Jakob and Jean had visited her with Tupperware containers of meals for her to freeze and a small basket of freshly baked treats, they had found her house to be in disarray.

With Jean’s due date only a week away, it was up to Jakob, Otis, Ola and Klara to do the heavy-duty cleaning and repair work, while Jean made endless rounds of tea and did her best to comfort the distressed older woman.

Mrs Johnson had known Jean for over twenty years, remembering her as a fresh-faced newlywed who had just moved to the area. Jean and Remi had bought the dilapidated house on the hill for a steal of a bargain and spent over ten years transforming it into the most desirable property in Moordale. She had been delighted for them when their son had been born and her heart had broken for Jean when, years later, her marriage fell apart and the whole town learnt of Remi’s affairs. Over the last year, however, Mrs Johnson had begun to notice the presence of a new man in Jean’s life and it soon became clear that he had become a permanent fixture, along with his two daughters. The Nyman family had made themselves at home in the house on the hill and their new baby was to be born any day. To her elderly neighbour, it was as if Jean’s life and come full circle.

It had taken an entire week of after school visits made by the kids and after work visits made by Jakob to get Mrs Johnson’s house back to the condition it had once been in. When they had finished, every room sparkled and all of her appliances were restored free of charge, as the family firmly insisted. After that, there had just been the drains that Jakob wasn’t satisfied with and so he had spent the majority of Valentine’s weekend driving to and from various DIY shops for plumbing supplies and filling Mrs Johnson’s home with a plethora of Swedish swear words as he worked.

“He won’t have forgotten. You know he lives for days like this,” Ola said, sweeping through the kitchen with her headphones round her neck.

“Oh!” Jean startled.

She turned from her place at the kitchen window to meet the fresh-faced seventeen year old, who was smiling reassuringly at her.

“I know,” Jean sighed.

“Dad would never let you down,” Ola insisted.

Jean nodded and watched as Ola selected a tangerine from the fruit bowl and peeled in carefully over the compost container by the back door.

“I’ll empty this tomorrow morning, so please don’t trek to the bottom of the garden with it tonight,” Ola told her, pointing towards the heap.

Jean smiled at the teenager’s maturity and how easy she was about everything, a far cry from her own son of a similar age.

“Otis has already left for Eric’s,” Jean said, leaning heavily against the kitchen counter. “He still can’t find his helmet, so he borrowed yours.”

Ola nodded.

“We’re nearly ready to go to Dad’s, Klara’s just getting some bits together. We won’t hurry back in the morning, so don’t worry about any of that either.”

Jean smiled gratefully. She loved having Ola and Klara at the house as much as they were but she was glad that Jakob had decided to keep his home with his daughters as well. She missed the smaller queue for the bathroom each morning and being able to keep the fridge stocked for longer than a few days. She sometimes found herself becoming misty eyed when she remembered what life was like when it was just her and Otis, knowing that it would never be just the two of them again. But welcoming Ola and Klara into her home, watching as they transformed their shared attic bedroom into their own space, had allowed her to remember the reason why she had been set on buying the house on the hill all those years ago.

Jean had always longed for a big family and that longing had never gone away, it was merely masked and suppressed after the devastation Remi had left her in. From then on, she could only ever see it being her and Otis but because she loved her son as fiercely as she did, that thought was never a problem. However, Jakob’s girls brought so much light and happiness back into their home again, even Otis had begun to relax and crack a smile on occasion. The constant bustle and the many pairs of helping hands had been a blessing for Jean as the months of her pregnancy begun to add up and she had started to wonder if she had ever felt so loved and cared for.

Hurried footsteps making their way down the stairs snapped Jean out of her reverie. Klara appeared in the kitchen wearing her new green parka that she had saved almost a year’s worth of her wages at the library café to buy. She was Ola’s double as far as her build and features were concerned and Jean knew by looking through the photo albums Jakob had shown her that the girls looked exactly like their late mother.

“Ready,” Klara announced, pulling her lilac rucksack onto her shoulder and draping her knitted scarf over her arm.

Ola popped the last segment of her tangerine into her mouth and stood from the kitchen chair she had sunk into.

“Are you sure you don’t mind us taking your car, Jean?” she asked.

“It’s fine,” Jean dismissed with a wave of her hand. “Your dad won’t be much longer, I’m sure.”

Jakob had just reobtained his driving licence and had celebrated by treating himself to a vintage chevy pickup truck. Candy apple red, straight from the 80s and, like it’s owner, it had spent the majority of the week at Mrs Johnson’s house.

“Anything you need lifting or reaching before we go?” Ola checked.

“I’m fine girls, please go and have fun,” Jean smiled.

Ola made her way to the key bowl to root for Jean’s car keys, while Klara crossed over into the kitchen.

“Bye, Jean,” the fifteen year old said sweetly. “I hope you have a lovely Valentine’s.”

Jean smiled tearily and opened her arms, welcoming the girl as she threw her arms around the woman who she looked up to with such fondness. As they separated, Jean took her hand and placed it at the very top of her bump where the baby was kicking her, just under her ribs.

“Bye baby,” Klara whispered down at her imminent sibling, elated. “Don’t come out tonight please.”

Jean scoffed and nudged her playfully with her elbow.

“Not bloody likely.”

Ola retrieved the keys triumphantly and, with a fond goodbye and a blown kiss to Jean, she led Klara out of the door. Jean remained at the window and watched them go, before taking a deep breath and scanning the living room for her book. It was the first time she’d had the house entirely to herself for weeks.

***

It was half past seven when Jakob slipped through the front door, closing it quietly behind him and making his way to the living room. He sighed, instantly at home at the sight of Jean fast asleep on the couch with her feet propped up on the coffee table and her book abandoned on her chest. Without waking her, he hurried back to his truck and carried something covered with a sheet into the kitchen and placed it on the table. Out of his pocket he plucked the written Valentine’s card he’d had hiding in the glove compartment for two weeks and set it on top of the covering. He had been planning on cooking a special meal for them that evening but his work at Mrs Johnson’s had taken longer than he thought it would and then he’d had to drive over to his house to pick up Jean’s gift. Instead, he took out his phone and ordered them two large pizzas and some sides between them, knowing that, with Jean’s current cravings, she would probably appreciate those more anyway.

He opened the fridge and selected a can of cider for himself and some cloudy lemonade that had been a big hit with Jean recently. After adding some ice cubes to her glass, he set it down on the coffee table and carefully sat next to her. As soon as the couch dipped, Jeans eyes flew open with a start and she jumped suddenly.

“Woah, it’s okay,” Jakob soothed, placing an assuring hand on her thigh. “It’s me.”

“Jakob,” Jean mumbled, peering up at him.

“I’m sorry I’m so late,” Jakob sighed. “The plumbing work wasn’t as simple as I thought it would be, but I ordered us some pizza.”

“Oh god, that’s the best news I’ve had all day… Help me up.”

Jean held out her hands and Jakob braced himself before helping her first to a sitting position and then to her feet.

“Not much longer now,” he said, kissing her stomach.

Glassy eyed, Jean ran her fingers through his hair and made for the bathroom.

Exhausted himself after working for the last ten days without a break, Jakob rearranged the couch cushions in a way that he hoped would make Jean more comfortable, before retrieving a large throw for both of them from the chest by the fireplace. He switched the TV on and found that one of the Sunday night gameshows they’d become addicted to over the past few weeks had just started. Taking a swig of his cider, he leaned back and closed his eyes for a second. He heard the tap run followed by Jean’s heavy gait as she made her way back to him.

“What do you have covered up in the kitchen?” she asked, dropping back onto the couch as carefully as she could manage and immediately tucking herself under his arm.

He smelt fresh, like the olive scented shower gel Klara had bought him for his birthday in November.

“It’s your Valentine’s Day gift,” Jakob said simply, kissing her temple softly when he felt her drape her arm across his waist.

He wordlessly slid a cushion between his side and her bump when he felt uncomfortably attempt to rearrange herself.

“It looks big.”

“Mmm, I’d say it’s medium sized for what it is.”

They watched contestant two place all his money on option B and waited for the result, neither of them knowing the answer to the question themselves. He felt Jean relax when the studio lighting turned green, indicating that the smallest island off the coast of Italy was Panarea and contestant two had been successful.

“What are you thinking?” Jakob asked.

“I’m wondering what you got me,” Jean admitted.

She felt his chest rise and fall in quick succession as he chuckled at her honesty.

“Why don’t I pull you up and we can find out, hmm?”

Once again, it was a joint effort to get Jean upright from the low couch and they slowly made their way to the kitchen. She opened the card first and she had to blink back tears as she read the inscription, feeling Jakob’s large, comforting hand on her back as she did so. Then, she eyed the covered mass on the table curiously.

“Nothing’s going to jump out,” Jakob smiled at her hesitation.

His smile morphed into a beam when he watched her uncover the wooden chest. Jean immediately began to cry once she saw what he had done for her.

“Oh, Jakob!” she gasped, running her hand over the smooth, wooden surface of the toy box. “Did you…?”

“I made it, yes,” Jakob filled. “Do you think it will be okay?”

“Jakob, it’s perfect.”

The toy chest was made from solid oak with dovetail joints and had a sweeping willow tree and its intricately woven roots engraved on the front. Awed, Jean carefully lifted the lid and peered inside, inhaling the smell of freshly sanded wood.

“Look, if you let go,” Jakob encouraged her to move her hands and they watched as it slowly closed, the lid meeting the rest of the chest with barely a sound. “No trapped fingers and there’s child-safe hinges.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“When we decide on his name, I can engrave that as well, if you want it.”

“Jakob,” Jean breathed.

She reached up and placed her hand on the back of his neck before pulling him down into a tender kiss.

“I know it’s not technically for you…” Jakob said when their lips had barely parted.

“But it’s all I want.”

They stood in the centre of the kitchen, holding each other for a long while. Jean with her head on his chest, allowing him to rock her as she continued to look at their son’s toy box and Jakob with his nose in her hair and his hands on her back, running his fingers up and down her cotton covered spine.

“I’ve got something for you,” Jean said. “We’ll have to go outside to see it, though.”

They hurried into their coats, with Jakob stopping to kneel and zip up Jean’s large, padded windbreaker at his insistence, and stepped out through the back door.

“It’s not handcrafted,” Jean explained. “But I thought it would be nice to have with us through the years so that we can watch it grow as a family, all of us.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Jakob said, kneeling in front of a small, potted apple tree. “I love it. I can plant it in the garden somewhere in the Summer when it’s a little bigger.”

Jean nodded, watching as he noticed and picked up the card she had propped up against the small trunk.

“The apples are always best when home-grown, always,” he looked up at her with his eyes shining.

Taking care not to slip on the frosty decking, he stood and cupped her face in his hands.

“Thank you, my love,” he said, kissing her slowly.

They didn’t stay out for long and gratefully returned to the couch, where they tucked themselves under the blanket, sharing pizza and shouting answers at the TV.

The gameshows finished and they settled back as a hospital drama began which neither of them paid much attention to.

“How way Mrs Johnson when you left?” Jean asked.

“She was… okay,” Jakob said carefully, taking a swig of his cider. “I could tell that she didn’t want me to leave but she knew I had to go back to the house to take a shower and pick up your gift. She said she didn’t want to keep me from my Valentine for a moment longer.”

“I can’t imagine what that must be like,” Jean said. “All those years together, over just like that.”

“Mmm,” Jakob agreed sadly, moving his free hand to rub her belly.

He could conjure up that feeling almost instantly, having once let it consume him.

“And you, my sweet, sweet man, your work will have meant everything to her this week. I can’t believe how lucky we are to have you and to get to call you ours.”

Jakob smiled hazily and they each said nothing for some time.

“Are you still awake?” he whispered, feeling her lean heavier still into his side.

“Yeah,” Jean told the fabric of his shirt.

“Why don’t you let me help you up… take you upstairs… make love to you in our bed?”

“I can’t think anything I want more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day ❤️


	3. Then: During

Jean pressed her head back into the pillow as she squeezed Remi’s hand with a knuckle-shattering grip. She felt dry, gloved fingers probing her before pushing deeper and twisting painfully within, causing her to inhale sharply at the sensation. Remi placed a steady hand on her arm and felt her relax slightly once the examination was over. She opened her eyes and waited.

“Still one centimetre, Jean, and the head is quite high,” the doctor told her, snapping his gloves off efficiently.

“So, it’s just a waiting game then, James?” Remi asked.

“I’m afraid so.”

“Looks like we’re in for a long night,” he said. “Thanks, mate.”

He shook his friend’s hand who then waved at them over his shoulder, leaving them to it.

“Remi,” Jean sighed. “Why don’t we just go home? Nothing’s happening and I’d rather sleep in our bed tonight.”

“Well…we’re here now, Jeanie. Let’s wait until you get to four, then you can get your epidural and try for some sleep,” Remi said, looking at her sympathetically. 

Jean nodded, determined not to panic and fall at the first hurdle. Her labour had barely even begun and she was already feeling claustrophobic at the hospital, the private hospital Remi had insisted on when they found out that their home birth was no longer possible. She had already spent a night on a ward upon noticing that the baby’s movements had been reduced. After a scan and monitoring of the heartbeat for twelve hours, it was confirmed that their unborn son was absolutely fine and it had just been a scare. It had been enough for the hospital to strongly recommend against Jean birthing at home and so Remi had contacted one of his flatmates from university and had booked them into the Spire hospital instead. Shaken and nervous, Jean had agreed, blanching at the cost that Remi assured her they could afford, and they had gone on a tour of the wing in which she would be giving birth.

“At least we’ve got a nice room to wait it out in,” Remi smiled, stroking her cheek. “It could be a lot worse.”

“Mmm, and James is nice,” she said, pulling his arm and encouraging him to lie on the bed next to her where she was resting on her side.

“He is,” Remi agreed, shifting into a comfortable position, facing her. “And he’s an excellent doctor, too. He’ll really take care of you both.”

“I want to try without the epidural, remember. Does James know that?”

“He’ll have read your birth plan I’m sure, just try and relax. If it’s what you want then I’ll be with you all the way.”

Jean chewed her lip.

“Do you think I can do it naturally? You keep talking about me getting to four and having the epidural like it’s part of the plan.”

“Yes, I do think you can do it but I think you shouldn’t pin everything on whether or not you do. As long as you’re okay and the baby’s okay, that’s all that matters. Don’t try and suffer through. When it gets too much, get the pain relief.”

“Oh, I think I’m having another one,” Jean winced.

Remi put his hand on her stomach and felt the muscles contract.

“It’s okay, Jeanie, just breathe,” he encouraged.

He moved closer when she pulled on the collar of his shirt. After over a minute of Remi counting the seconds in his head, Jean relaxed.

“They seem to be quite strong,” he pointed out. “You can’t talk through them.”

“I don’t like lying down,” Jean said.

She rolled away from him and pushed herself into a sitting position, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Jean eyed the birthing ball she had spotted when they arrived.

“I think I’m going to try bouncing on that to see if it brings him down, then we can go for a walk before it goes dark if we’re allowed.”

Remi nodded and rolled the ball across the room for her. Once Jean was settled next to the bed, bouncing on the ball with her legs open wide to help her maintain her balance, he began to unpack their things. He set the baby’s first outfit in the little cot that was ready and waiting for him and then pulled out a few of Jean’s things she decided to bring to make her feel more comfortable.

“Lip balm?” he raised his eyebrows, smirking.

“My lips will get dry from all the breathing,” Jean said, defending her choice.

“I don’t think you’ve brought enough nightgowns- seven, Jeanie!”

“Pushing a baby out is messy and I’ll be bleeding a lot afterwards as well,” she said. “I wish you’d read the book then you’d know all of this.”

“Ah, I don’t need a book, we’re in a hospital full of professionals! They’ll tell us everything we need to know.”

Jean rolled her eyes and continued to bounce while Remi organised and reorganised their things. Ten minutes after her last, she puffed her way through another contraction while Remi stroked her shoulder.

“They’re regular,” he commented, making a note of the time in the notebook he had brought with him for such a task.

“They need to be more regular and I need to start dilating, then I’ll be happy.”

Remi gave her a look.

“Well, not _happy_. I’ll be in pain, but it’ll be okay because he’ll be coming.”

***

“Ohhhhh, Remi! This really hurts!” Jean cried.

She threw herself over the raised bed and vocalised into the sheets, pulling at them so tightly Remi feared they would be torn.

“It’s okay,” he said, placing a hesitant hand on her back.

“No!” she howled, nudging him off.

He took a step away from her, intending to give her some space, but was soon pulled back by her insistent hand.

It had taken six hours at the hospital before Jean’s labour finally started to progress, and progress it most certainly did. After an hour of bouncing on the birthing ball, they had left the hospital and gone for a walk in its extensive country grounds.

“This is what we’re paying for, Jeanie,” Remi had told her when she marvelled at the water features and the gardens as they roamed.

They then ambled the long way back to their room, with Jean having to stop at more regular intervals as the gap between her contractions began to close. Then, she took to bouncing on the ball again before the many hours of walking laps of the room, pacing restlessly and insisting she had to keep upright and moving.

Gravity had worked its wonders and, soon enough, Jean was unable to quell the moans and groans that poured from between her lips with every contraction.

“Remi,” she said in a rare moment of calmness. “Go and get one of the midwives.”

“What? Why? What’s happening?” he questioned, jumping from the chair he had been trying not to nod off in.

She ignored his questions and sunk into a squat by the bed, becoming tired of standing.

“Just go and get someone, now,” she instructed steadily.

She listened as her husband’s shoes squeaked frantically against the flooring as he hurried out of the room, not thinking to close the door behind him.

Jean checked the time on the clock on the wall, twenty two minutes past eleven. She had exactly four minutes until the next contraction and, with that target on her mind, she picked up the two hospital gowns that had been folded and left for her on the table and made her way to the adjoining bathroom.

When Remi returned with a midwife, Jean was just emerging and had dressed herself in the two gowns, the second draped over her back to conceal the opening. She ignored Remi’s anxious expression and instead shoved the dress and underwear she had just taken off into his hands and marched urgently over to the bed, making it just in time to drop back into her squat and moan into the comforter.

Remi stood back and watched as the midwife joined Jean on the floor and placed a steadying hand in between her shoulder blades, silently waiting with her until the pain was over. Her moaning ceased and she groggily lifted her head to smile gratefully at the other woman.

“Hi Jean, my name’s Meredith,” the midwife gently told her. “I came on shift for the night about an hour ago, so we haven’t met yet. How’re you getting on?”

“I don’t know,” Jean said honestly. “It feels horrible and I’m so tired.”

Meredith nodded.

“Why don’t you try getting on the bed?” she suggested.

“I don’t want to slow the contractions down. It took so long for things to pick up.”

“Alright,” Meredith said, patting her shoulder.

She stood and moved past Remi, who had stepped a little closer but seemed to be standing as still as he possibly could, clutching Jean’s clothes. Meredith took Jean’s notes from the folder on the unit and scanned through the documents.

“It says here you were one centimetre when you were last examined over six hours ago. Would you say things feel like they’ve progressed since then?”

“Definitely,” Jean said, standing and stretching out her legs. “The contractions are more painful and closer together.”

“That all sounds promising,” Meredith smiled. “It’s up to you though, Jean. If you want to keep going, I can leave you to it and let you get on because I can see you’re doing all the right things. Or I can examine you so we have more of an idea what’s going on and then talk about your options from there.”

Jean glanced over at Remi who still hadn’t moved.

“I want you to examine me,” she decided. “I need to know.”

“Okay then, why don’t you climb onto the bed and get yourself as comfortable as you can on your back while I get some gloves on?”

Meredith took pity on Remi and took Jeans clothes from him.

“Why don’t you go and help her?” she quietly suggested as she began to fold the dress and underwear and place them neatly on top of Jean’s hospital bag.

Remi stood at Jean’s side as she ungraciously climbed onto the bed and leaned back against the pillows. She turned her face away, unable to look at his anxious expression, as Meredith put on a pair of blue medical gloves and stood at the end of the bed.

“Whenever you’re ready, you can plant your feet flat on the bed and then pull them towards your bottom with your knees apart.”

Jean did as she was instructed and closed her eyes as Meredith continued to speak to her.

“I’m going to use a gel to make this as comfortable as possible for you but if it does become too much, just let me know and I’ll stop and take my hand away.”

Jean nodded and allowed Remi to hold her hand.

“Okay Jean, I’m going to start the examination now.”

Jean nodded again and winced slightly as she felt Meredith’s fingers. Taking deep breaths, she found that it was slightly more comfortable than the earlier examination and was soon over. Opening her eyes, Jean watched as Meredith removed her gloves and disposed of them in a bin tucked under the end of the bed.

“You’ve made progress,” Meredith said, placing her hand on Jean’s bare knee, encouraging her to lower her legs back down to the bed. “You’re three and a half centimetres dilated.”

“ _What?_ ” Jean groaned. “I was so sure it would be more than that!”

“I know,” Meredith sympathised, noticing her well up. “But you might go quite quickly from here- your contractions are regular and strong.”

“I’m so tired though,” Jean sniffed, covering her eyes with her palm.

She had been in early labour for days and sleep had been scarce.

“You have options,” Meredith remined her. “If you feel you’ve done all you can, we can discuss pain relief and see what you’d like to try.”

“I think you should consider it, Jeanie,” Remi urged. “You’ll be able to get some sleep.”

“I don’t think I can carry on like this…”

Remi kissed the back of her hand and smoothed her fringe out of her eyes.

“There are options other than the epidural,” Meredith reminded them. “There’s gas and air or pethidine… a bath might help you to relax as well.”

“I just want to go to sleep,” Jean said tearfully. “I’ve been at this for too long now and I can’t do it anymore.”

“Okay, it’s alright, Jean. You’re doing really well,” Meredith said kindly, rubbing her calf comfortingly. “If you’re sure it’s what you want, I’ll give Dr Murphy a ring and let him know.”

“It is what I want,” Jean sniffed.

“No problem,” Meredith nodded.

She turned and left the room as Remi leant down to kiss Jean’s forehead.

“It won’t be long now,” he said. “James only lives twenty minutes away.”

She frowned and her eyes flew open, realising what Meredith must have been referring to when she said she would contact her doctor by phone.

“He’s gone _home?!_ ”

“He’s on call,” Remi explained.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jean demanded.

“You were pretty busy and I didn’t want to bother you. I didn’t think it would matter.”

“Of course it matters! What if the baby was coming right this second and he wasn’t here?!”

“Jeanie, the baby isn’t coming any time soon, we know that.” Remi said. “James reckons he won’t be here until at least lunch time tomorrow.”

“How did you…” Jean began. “You were talking about this with him? When?”

“When I nipped out to get some fresh air, I bumped into him in the corridor,” Remi replied. “He said he was going home for the night, he’s on call but doesn’t expect the baby to be born for twelve hours or more.”

“Fucking hell, Remi!” Jean fumed, slamming her hand down on the mattress with a force that made him wince.

She opened her mouth to berate him but her words were stolen from her by the onset of another contraction. Unable to stand contracting while on her back, Jean hauled herself up onto all fours and rocked backwards and forwards, humming steadily as the pain increased.

“Don’t touch my back,” she warned, sensing Remi’s next move without even having to look at him.

She exhaled noisily as the intensity released her and sat back on her haunches just as Meredith knocked and re-entered the room.

“Doctor Murphy is on his way,” she smiled. “Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable while we wait for him, Jean?”

“Will you stay?” she immediately asked.

“Of course I will.”

Meredith slipped Jean’s updated notes back in the file and joined Remi at her bedside.

“I think I want to bounce on the ball again,” Jean told her. “See if I can bring him down a bit more while I can still move.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Meredith agreed.

She helped Jean back down from the bed and steadied her on the birthing ball. Pulling a stool in place opposite Jean, Meredith stopped short of sitting on it herself and instead motioned for Remi to take a seat.

“Use Remi,” she encouraged the labouring woman. “Hold him, let him help you.”

Remi smiled meekly at Jean, who placed her hands on his knees with a defeated sigh and began to bounce. Meredith busied herself tidying the room, folding the blanket for Remi that they had ready for all partners who would be staying over night and dimmed the lights. A relief that Jean didn’t even realise she needed.

***

“Ten centimetres and the baby’s head is nice and low.”

Time had passed and it was creeping towards midday. Meredith had finished her night shift four hours earlier and Jean had cried after she left. She had been hoping that Meredith would be able to be with them when their son was finally born but, as she was only six and a half centimetres dilated at that point, the midwife had gone home to bed.

“I’ll go and get Doctor Murphy and then we’ll let you try pushing,” their new midwife, Sarah, told her as she removed her gloves and left the room.

“Not as friendly as the last one, is she?” Remi chuckled.

He had managed to sleep for seven hours, change his clothes and freshen up after Jean was administered her epidural and it seemed to have given him a new lease of life. Whereas Jean had hardly slept, even though the epidural had completely relieved her of the pain. She was uncomfortable lying on her back in the bed and she didn’t like not being able to feel her legs and move around freely. Though she couldn’t feel it once the epidural had started to take effect, the insertion of her catheter had been uncomfortable and she was dreading it’s removal after the birth.

“Aren’t you glad it’s nearly over?” Remi prompted. “I definitely am, I’m desperate for a shower.”

Jean turned her head and looked over at him, still reclined in his chair.

“Do you not want to come over and be with me?” she asked.

However, he was excused a response as the door to their room opened and Sarah returned with James.

“Right, Jean,” James said, pulling on a pair of gloves. “Let’s have a few good pushes and see if we can get the baby out by lunchtime.”

Remi grinned and made his way over to the bed, receiving a friendly slap on the back from his friend.

“Ready to be a dad, Remi?” James teased.

Remi turned to his friend and said something that Jean didn’t catch, which caused them both to laugh loudly. Sarah lifted her legs into stirrups and her face reddened at how exposed she was to the room, knowing that if someone else came through the door they would see everything.

“You won’t know when to push because you can’t feel anything, so you need to wait until Doctor Murphy tells you that you can and then push hard,” Sarah told her, squinting at the monitor.

Jean nodded. After getting the epidural, Meredith had explained they would need to continuously monitor the baby’s heartrate and her contractions as she would no longer feel them and so had wrapped a belt around Jean’s waist, connecting it to the machine at the side of her bed.

“Doctor Murphy, she’s having one,” Sarah warned, interrupting the full-blown conversation about golf he had embarked on with Remi.

“Oh,” James said, glancing at the monitor. “Right, Jean, chin to your chest and push hard. Let’s try and avoid a forceps delivery.”

Remi grimaced at the thought and moved to stand at Jean’s head, watching as she instinctively placed her hands on the back of each thigh and curled forwards to push for the first time.

“Harder, Jean,” James instructed. “We really need to make the most out of each contraction.”

Jean took a deep breath and her face reddened as she strained twice more before James told her to stop, lest she push without a contraction. That was how it continued for the next forty five minutes: Jean flat on her back, feeling nothing but the sting of frustration as she was coached to push harder, harder, harder every three minutes when the monitor told them she was contracting. As the time went on, Remi began to lean against the bed, before giving up on standing entirely and dragging a chair to sit by his wife’s head.

“If the head doesn’t come in the next two contractions, we’ll have to take you to theatre for an instrumental delivery,” James told them, looking at Remi rather than Jean.

“Shit,” Remi cursed. “Come on, Jean, you’ve got to really push hard.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing?” she spat at him.

“Well… harder then,” Remi insisted.

James chuckled at their disagreement.

“Another one, Doctor Murphy,” Sarah said.

“Right, Jean, come on,” James said.

Determinedly, Jean used her thighs to lift her upper body off the bed and pushed with all her might. She didn’t want forceps, or a vacuum delivery, or a caesarean section. She wished she’d refused to allow Remi to book her into the hospital, she had preferred the idea of giving birth at an NHS hospital where she knew midwives would be in charge of her care and a doctor would only be summoned in the case of an emergency.

“That’s it!” James enthused. “The head’s starting to come now- just push when I tell you to.”

Jean laughed triumphantly and gave smaller pushes as and when James instructed. Her son’s head was born in the next two contractions, while Remi turned a sickly shade of green.

“That’s the head out!” the doctor told them. “Having a look, Remi?”

“We’re hoping for more children after this! Do you want to permanently scar me?” Remi scoffed, hoping his bravado would mask the fact that he didn’t feel well at all.

James smirked at his friend’s response.

“Best not then,” he agreed. “It looks like you’ve torn, Jean, but don’t worry about that now. We’ll get the baby out and then I’ll be able to examine you properly.”

Jean nodded. In the moment, she didn’t care. She just wanted it all over with. When her next contraction was announced, she mustered all of her reserves and gave it everything she had.

She pushed and pushed and kept pushing even after Sarah told her to stop as her contraction had ended. Jean couldn’t feel anything. She knew she had already torn, something that she had initially been keen to avoid, so decided she had nothing to lose. The sooner she birthed her baby, the sooner she would be left alone to take care of him. The bright lights, which had been switched on by Sarah as soon as Meredith had left, could be dimmed once more and she could hold her baby boy to her chest, just as she had been dreaming about throughout her pregnancy.

She continued pushing until James told her that the shoulders were free. Then, she pushed once more and felt a huge relief as the pressure was lifted, like a cork being popped from a bottle.

At first, there was silence, then…

A gurgle.

A cry.

And a pink, blood-covered, wailing baby was plopped onto her stomach where Sarah had spread a towel. Immediately, the midwife was suctioning his airway and rubbing his back, lifting him higher up onto Jean’s chest.

“Oh my god!” Jean cried, blinking down at her baby. “He’s okay, just leave him.”

She tried to prevent Sarah from handling him anymore and to give him some time.

“Let her do her job, Jeanie,” Remi said gently.

He had stood from his chair and was peering over Jean’s shoulder at the newborn.

“Congratulations,” James said, smiling at the new family of three.

Remi walked around the bed to embrace him and they shared a few quiet words and yet more slaps on the back, while Jean continued to stare at her son. With Sarah’s help, Jean had managed to lift her gown to allow the baby to rest on her bare chest and then they were left completely to themselves while the midwife began to prepare for the birth of the placenta.

“Hello,” Jean whispered down at her baby. “You’re here.”

She cried silently, her tears coursing like rivers down her cheeks and mingling with her son’s sticky hair. He had begun to calm upon feeling the steady, familiar drum of his mother’s heartbeat against his cheek and hearing her whispered words of love. When Remi returned to them, their son was whimpering intermittently but otherwise sound asleep.

“Well done, Jeanie,” Remi whispered, kissing the crown of her head.

He moved the towel gently from his son’s face and began to drink him in.

“He’s perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aiming to add a new chapter each weekend but I finished this one early so happy weekend!
> 
> **Disclaimer: This is not typical of how births in the UK at private hospitals go. The large majority of parents have very positive experiences and receive excellent care from all involved. This chapter is in no way a dig at private maternity care or private healthcare on the whole, or the people who choose to be cared for privately.**


	4. Now: During

“Has he gone?” she asked, lifting her head from its place on her crossed forearms.

“Yes, finally,” Jakob chuckled.

He walked towards where Jean was positioned, leaning over the windowsill of their bedroom, and stood next to her. For late February, the day was beautiful, still, calm.

“The perfect day to have a baby,” Jakob had told her earlier that morning when the contractions had forced them out of bed before even their children were up to get ready for school.

It was quarter past eight and her phone started to ring. Jean blindly reached for it and groaned when she checked the caller ID.

“Otis,” she answered. “If I hear the words advanced maternal age or geriatric pregnancy one more time, I swear to you I will- oh… I know you do, darling… I love you very much… This is a big change for us all so it’s understandable that you’re worried… Yes… Yes, of course.”

She looked up at Jakob with tears pooling in her eyes and he took her hand.

“Darling, you know you will always be my first baby, my first boy, and nothing will change that,” she said. “You made me a mother.”

Jakob squeezed her clammy palm in his as he listened to Jean’s side of the conversation with her son.

“Everything is going to be fine, Jakob’s here and he won’t leave my side. You might even be a big brother by the time you finish school this afternoon.”

She frowned and huffed her annoyance upon hearing his reply, her eyes well and truly drying as she listened to what Otis was saying to her.

“I know I haven’t given birth for eighteen years, but it still might be a quick labour...”

Jakob stifled a laugh as it became apparent that Otis was catastrophising on the other end of the phone.

“I don’t care what Google says, Otis, there’s no guarantee that just because I’m… an older mother that it’ll need to…”

She sighed and stood up straight, pressing her forehead into Jakob’s shoulder, feeling him wrap one arm around her upper back. Jean and Otis’ conversation continued for a few minutes until Jakob felt Jean tense and knew a contraction was beginning.

“Otis,” Jean interrupted him while he was in full flow. “I need to go and you need get to school or you’ll be late.”

She sucked in a breath and released it slowly, listening to the tail end of what he was saying.

“Alright,” she sighed. “Okay… I love you… Bye darling.”

She hung up the phone and blindly tossed it onto the bed, closing her eyes and shifting her weight from foot to foot while lightly holding onto Jakob’s biceps as she felt the pinch of the peak. Slowly, Jean lifted her head and met his steady, blue gaze as the tightening abated and she felt herself relax once more.

“Do you think we should start timing them?” Jakob asked.

“Maybe. I don’t know, I just feel really restless. I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Jakob nodded, understanding.

“Otis was…” Jean trailed off.

“Panicking, overreacting, filling your head with scenarios you’d rather not think about?” Jakob finished wryly. 

“Mhmm,” she agreed with a roll of her eyes and a knowing smirk. “He’s just nervous but he doesn’t realise that his nerves make me anxious too.”

“It’s just his way of showing he cares. The never-ending research, the print outs, all the pacing he was doing this morning…” Jakob offered. “But it sounds like I need to come up with something to distract you until this labour picks up.”

Jakob took her hand and began to lead her from the bedroom and downstairs to the kitchen speaking gently to her all the way.

“What about some oatmeal for breakfast? Plenty of carbohydrates for energy, maybe with some cocoa powder, fruit… whatever you’d like.”

They made it to the bottom of the stairs and both jumped upon seeing Klara wiping down the kitchen surfaces with a draining board full of freshly washed dishes behind her. She looked up and smiled at them both nervously.

“I thought a dirty kitchen would be the last thing you’d need, today of all days,” she smiled nervously, knowing what her father was going to say.

“Darling, why are you not at school?” he asked, frowning.

She had been right.

“I thought I could... help? I mean, until you’re ready to go to the birth centre maybe,” the teenager spoke directly to Jean. “If you’ve changed your mind, it’s okay, I can go to school.”

Jean smiled kindly at the girl, thinking back to that first conversation they had had three weeks earlier when Klara had expressed her desire to be with Jean throughout her home labour. Jean had agreed that if she went into labour over the weekend or during the February half term then she would like nothing more than for Klara to be by her side. They had agreed that they would need to discuss the possibility of her taking a day off school with Jakob first, just in case the baby decided to be born on a school day. However, no one had expected Jean to go into labour on her due date and the conversation had not yet taken place.

“I thought it would be nice for Klara to be with us until it’s time to go. We’ve been talking about it a lot over the last few weeks, haven’t we darling?” Jean explained while Klara nodded along. “I think the baby took us all by surprise this morning. I thought we would have more time to discuss the idea with you should he come midweek, but he definitely has other ideas.”

Jakob nodded and smiled as his youngest daughter approached them.

“I think you might be that perfect distraction,” he said, kissing Klara in the centre of her forehead. “I’ll ring the school and tell them you’re sick.”

The girl beamed, clearly thrilled, before moving to stand at Jean’s side, ready for whatever she would be needed for.

“Let’s set the table for breakfast,” Jean suggested while Jakob took his phone from his back pocket and sat on the couch to make the call. “I was thinking we could go for a walk afterwards to encourage him to drop down a bit more.”

Klara fell into step with Jean, maintaining her slow waddle through the house, and the two chatted happily as they got to work.

Klara had her heart set on becoming a midwife when she was older, just like her mother had been. She had known since she was eight years old when she had curiously asked Jakob what it was her mother did before she died. As soon as he explained that she had specialised in homebirths and helped women deliver their babies in their own surroundings, she was enchanted by the idea. Her passion only intensified as he told her of Ola’s birth: at home on a scorching summer’s night, and her own: in their living room during a thunderstorm.

She worked hard at school and had taken a keen interest in Biology, which quickly became her favourite subject. At fifteen, she was on the brink of choosing her A Levels and had already researched the exact subjects she would need to take at college, plus the grades she would need to obtain in them in order to study midwifery at university. 

Klara had been thrilled when Jean and Jakob had sat all three of their children down and told them of the pregnancy, even more so when they decided to get back together and they had started to become a family. She watched with fascination as Jean’s body, moods and appetites changed and couldn’t believe her luck when Jean invited her along to her scans and appointments with the midwives. With Ola spending more time with her girlfriend and Otis’ determination to stay out of the way, Klara and Jean’s relationship had flourished and Jakob watched quietly as his daughter found the maternal influence she had been craving since her own mother had died when she was only seven.

***

Klara waited as Jean shifted uncomfortably through a contraction, her palms flat against the dresser humming deeply and feeling the vibrations from her throat move right down through her body to the tips of her toes. In four hours, things had really picked up. 

Opening her eyes, Jean smiled when Klara began to rub her arm reassuringly.

“Okay?” she checked.

“Yeah, it’s definitely getting stronger now,” Jean sighed wearily.

“That’s good,” Klara reminded her. “All the walking worked.”

Jean nodded and pulled her in for a hug. They stood and swayed together for a few minutes until Jakob appeared at the bedroom door.

“The bath is full,” he told them, smiling when he saw them huddled together.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Jean sighed. “What on earth am I doing?”

Jakob laughed and opened his arms as Jean moved from Klara’s hold to lean against his chest.

“You’re giving birth to our baby boy,” Jakob said. “And you’re doing so well.”

“Mmm, I need to get in the water before the next one starts,” Jean told him, starting to lift her top over her head.

“I’ll go downstairs and-” Klara began.

“No, please stay,” Jean interrupted. “If you’re comfortable, that is. I’m going to take everything off I think.”

Klara beamed.

“Of course I’ll stay,” she said. “I’ll go and fill your water bottle up while you get in.”

“I’m so glad she’s here,” Jean said as they watched Klara leave the room, hearing her footsteps padding down the stairs. “She’s making me feel so calm.” 

“She loves you almost as much as I do,” Jakob said, kissing her shoulder.

He helped Jean to undress and draped her dressing gown around her shoulders for their short walk to the bathroom. The water was deep and warm and Jean sighed appreciatively as she sunk down into its depths.

“This feels amazing,” she said, clipping her hair up and settling on her back. 

Jakob knelt on the bathmat and held her hand as she puffed through another contraction.

“Forty three seconds long,” he reported, looking down at his phone “Eight minutes since the last.”

“I hope we’re gone by the time Otis and Ola get home.”

“With the way you’ve been contracting, I bet we will be. Ola is going to Lily’s after school and I’ve asked Otis if he’ll do something with Eric so we can have a bit of extra time.”

Jean tilted her head, grateful for his thoughtfulness.

A gentle knock at the door alerted them to Klara’s return.

“Come in, Klara,” Jean called.

Klara appeared, grinning down at her and placing the icy cold water bottle on the corner of the bath by her feet.

“I brought you a banana for extra energy,” she said.

Jean peeled it and immediately tucked in and the three of them chatted among themselves while Jean ate and gulped her way through the water Klara had brought her.

“I can’t be on my back anymore,” Jean declared after a while, and Jakob and Klara helped her onto her knees so she could hang over the edge of the bath.

They topped her up with warm water as it started to cool, soothing Jean’s tense muscles, and Klara held a small towel under the cold tap of the sink. She initially folded and placed it on the back of Jean’s neck but as the intensity and frequency began to ramp up once more, Klara unfolded the towel so it covered her whole back as well as her neck.

“You’re so clever,” Jean groaned at her between contractions, eyes pressed shut, appreciating the expanse of the cool relief. “You think of everything.”

Klara glowed with pride at the comment and Jakob winked at her proudly.

As time ticked on, Jean began to get more uncomfortable and more vocal, unable to do anything but moan her way through every contraction. She clung to Klara’s hand and gripped Jakob’s shirt as she endured each pain, lifting her chest slightly, before slumping forward each time she was released.

“That was a long one, darling,” Jakob told her, stroking her hair. “It’s a solid four minutes in between them now.”

“We need to go, don’t we,” Jean realised, feeling dazed.

“I think we should before it becomes impossible for you to move,” he agreed.

“I don’t think Otis will ever forgive us if you have the baby in the bathroom,” Klara joked, relieved when Jean laughed lightly at her quip.

She hadn’t yet lost her sense of humour.

They waited for another contraction to pass before helping Jean from the bath and into a dress and a pair of leggings. Jakob called the birth centre to update them and let them know they were going to start making their way in as Klara guided Jean downstairs and into her coat.

“Jean,” Klara said while her dad was still on the phone. “I just want to thank you for letting me be with you and for doing all of this, for giving me my baby brother. It’s a dream come true.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jean smiled, cupping the girl’s face in her hands. “I don’t know what I’d have done without you today, you’ve been amazing and you’re going to be an incredible midwife. Just like your mum.”

They embraced again and Jean helped Klara to wipe the tears from her cheeks as Jakob joined them at the front door.

“Ready?” he asked, Jean’s overnight bag in hand.

“Ready,” Jean nodded.

She could feel her teeth begin to chatter with nerves. 

Klara walked them to the car, held Jean’s hand through one final contraction and then watched them drive away.

***

“Okay?”

“No.”

Jakob smiled, knowing that it was far from true, and kissed the crown of Jean’s head. She was on all fours in the pool at the birth centre. They had arrived two hours earlier and Joy, their midwife, had examined Jean and told her she was seven centimetres dilated. Jakob had gaped at her in astonishment and Jean had cried tears of relief, having been completely convinced that she wouldn’t be dilating at all and they would have to go home.

“You’re doing so well, my darling,” Jakob said.

She closed her eyes as she felt a contraction building and tried to concentrate on the feeling of the water being continuously poured over her lower back by Jakob. Dipping her head, Jean moaned loudly and squeezed her eyes closed.

“I can’t,” she gasped. “I can’t… I need something.”

“Okay,” Jakob said calmly.

He stood from the stool he was sitting on and leaned to place his free hand on her shoulder, still pouring the water in a gentle, consistent stream.

“Let’s get through this one first,” he soothed, his touch firm and steady.

On cue, Joy returned, quietly slipping into the room and standing on the shadowy outskirts as not to disturb Jean. Jakob looked up and she instantly smiled at him, giving him a reassuring nod. Everything was going just as it should.

“That sounded like a good one,” Joy said, stepping towards the pool as Jean relaxed back onto her knees, rubbing her stomach restlessly.

“I need something,” she told Joy.

The midwife nodded.

“I can get the gas and air ready for you?” she suggested, having memorised her birth plan.

“Yes,” Jean sighed. “Please.”

“I’m sure Jakob has been telling you and I’m also sure you don’t believe him, but you’re doing so perfectly well, Jean.”

Jean said nothing and just watched as Joy set up the gas and air canister. She carried it over to the pool and handed Jean the mouthpiece.

“Start using it as soon as you feel a surge build,” she advised. “Then, when you get to the peak, it will have already kicked in.”

“Will you examine me again?”

Joy nodded.

“Let’s wait until after you have another one.”

They didn’t need to wait long until Jean was lying back against the side of the pool with Jakob’s hands on each of her shoulders and Joy’s gloved fingers checking her progress. The older midwife was experienced and quick, having attended hundreds if not over a thousand births in her many years of working for the NHS.

“Seven centimetres,” she said, watching as Jean closed her eyes in disappointment. “Listen, you progressed really quickly earlier on so I don’t want you to be disheartened.”

“Is it because of the pool?” Jean asked.

“Possibly. But it’s more likely to be the change of environment,” Joy explained. “You were very relaxed at home in your own space and now you’re in new surroundings. It’s perfectly normal for your labour to stall.”

Joy could tell by the expression on Jean’s face that she was utterly deflated. 

“Is there anything we can do to get things going again?” Jakob asked, running his thumb in steady circles on the back of Jean’s neck.

“Yes, there are a few things you can try but there’s one in particular that works every time.”

“Do I need to get out of the water to do it? Because I don’t think I can cope with the pain without it,” Jean said.

“You can stay in the pool,” Joy promised her, touching Jean’s knee lightly. “I just want Jakob to hold you and kiss you and keep touching you as softly as he is now.”

Jean looked up at her and blinked.

“When you touch and kiss and love on each other, it produces oxytocin- the love hormone.”

“I know what oxytocin is,” Jean nodded eagerly, intrigued.

“Oxytocin stimulates contractions and cervical dilation and doing the things that stimulate the production of oxytocin will help you to relax as well.”

Jean nodded thoughtfully.

“There’s absolutely no pressure from me,” Joy told them. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with, but I’ll leave you for a couple of hours and you can decide what you’d like to do. If you want to get into the pool with Jean, Jakob, then that’s absolutely fine- lots of partners do.”

“Thank you,” Jakob nodded.

“You know where to find me if you need me,” Joy said.

She disposed of her gloves and quietly closed the door behind her.

“Well,” Jakob ventured. “What do you think?”

Jean sighed and struggled onto her knees, before turning to face him.

“You don’t have to get in the water with me or do any of the things she suggested.”

Jakob watched her whole body dip in defeat as she crouched alone in the middle of the pool.

“That would be a shame because I packed my swimming trunks,” he said, grinning as he caught her eye.

“How did you...?”

“I wanted to be prepared,” Jakob shrugged. 

Her bottom lip wobbled as she looked up at him, then she cried into his neck when he took her into his arms.

“It won’t be like the last time,” he whispered, kissing the shell of her ear.

They breathed together and she clung to him like a barnacle, while Jakob lowered his hand to feel her stomach tighten.

Jean felt hot being immersed the pool’s controlled temperature, yet she still found herself shivering when Jakob pried himself away from her to change into his swimwear in the little bathroom attached to their room. She slid over to him as soon as he stepped lightly into the water, immediately seeking refuge in his arms with his legs either side of her.

Wordlessly, he kissed the back of her neck and ran his fingernails up and down her thighs with feather-soft touches, listening to her sigh as she began to do the same over his calves, only pausing to contract. Jakob made his way up to her stomach, then her back and eventually her to shoulders before she leant fully back against his ink-covered chest. She enjoyed the feeling of his coarse hair against her smoothness, his hands gliding over her stomach, making the most of its fullness before their baby was born.

He gradually started to kiss her. At first, it was so soft and she was so relaxed that she was almost asleep and couldn’t immediately register the sensation, until he found the place along her clavicle that made her breathe a little heavier. She turned her cheek towards him, silently requesting a shift in his attention, he caught on instantly and pressed his lips into her cheekbone. Her face had become fuller with pregnancy and he enjoyed the pillowy softness against his mouth, the tip of his tongue, until she tilted her head at the perfect angle for him to meet her lips.

They moved gently together, delving deeply into each other, their breath condensing on the other’s face.

“Oh, fuck,” Jean moaned, millimetres from him.

“Contraction?” Jakob checked.

“No, just this. It feels so…”

“So…?”

“It feels like the right thing to do,” she continued. “Just the thing I need to get to where I need to be.”

She settled back onto his shoulder and Jakob immediately buried his nose in her hair. He liked it longer.

“It’s natural,” he said. “We loved him in and now we’ll love him out.”

***

“Is he stuck?”

“No, lovie, he’s not,” Joy replied. “But I think we need to think about getting you up and out of the water for a bit.”

“Oh, god,” Jean whimpered.

“It’s okay, darling. Everything’s just as it should be, but a change will really help your baby.”

“Come on, sweetheart,” Jakob encouraged, fully dressed and back on dry land.

Their time together had worked, and Jean had sent him to get Joy less than an hour after she had left them. The midwife could tell just by looking at Jean that she had progressed and had soon requested the attendance of a colleague, upon finding her to be nine and a half centimetres dilated.

“You can always get back in,” Joy said gently. “I really think a change will encourage him along.”

Jean nodded and looked up at Jakob with bleary eyes. He tucked a sweaty strand of hair that had broken loose from her ponytail behind her ear, before taking her hands and helping her up. The second midwife, Amelia, was immediately at his side and helped him to guide Jean out of the pool and onto the wooden flooring. Jean clung to Jakob’s shoulders while Amelia carefully dried her off with a towel and, less than a minute later, Jean was clutching the back of Jakob’s neck and moaning through a contraction.

“That’s it, Jean,” Joy praised. “Keep your sounds nice and deep and he’ll come.”

Jean slowly rocked her hips from side to side on bent knees and Jakob and Amelia moved with her while Joy remained on the outskirts and updated her notes.

“It’s not stopping!” Jean groaned, biting the material of Jakob’s shirt and groaning on.

“It will,” Amelia said from behind her, placing a steady hand on her hip as the three of them continued to move together.

Amelia caught Jakob’s eye and smiled, amazed at how completely calm he was.

“Won’t be long,” she mouthed at him.

He nodded and continued to grin, looking down at the top of Jean’s head as she stilled and exhaled loudly. As soon as she straightened her legs, she felt a shift and a lurch and then cried out as liquid rushed down the insides of her bare legs, soaking her feet and splashing onto the floor, forming a puddle that ended just before it reached Jakob’s trainers.

“Oh, fantastic!” Joy enthused. “That’s huge progress Jean!”

Jean said nothing but looked up at Jakob, her eyes wide with shock. He kissed the end of her nose and guided her a few steps forward so that Amelia could clean up, while she rested against Jakob’s chest.

“Nice and clear,” Amelia informed Joy.

“That means he’s a happy boy,” Jakob whispered to Jean.

She didn’t respond, couldn’t. Though she wasn’t contracting, the pressure between her legs was immense since the barrier of the amniotic sac was ruptured, and the sensation was astonishing. Sensing that she was feeling overwhelmed, Joy was soon back over to them and at Jean’s side, perching herself on the edge of the birth pool while Jean remained on her feet. She gently rubbed the labouring woman’s lower back to gain her attention and smiled when Jean turned her head to face her, still pressed tightly to Jakob’s solid frame.

“I know this feels like a lot,” Joy soothed. “But you’re very nearly there. I promise you it won’t be like this for much longer.”

At that, Jean began to cry heavily, letting tears and mucus run freely down her face, unable to believe that everything was going so well. Joy waited for her to finish crying and then tenderly wiped her face for her.

“You can get back in the water if you want to,” she said.

Jean shook her head, still unable to speak, but found that she preferred the feeling of the hard wood beneath her as another contraction built. She clung to Jakob and moaned and rocked just as before until she emitted a small grunt, followed by another and then another. Joy and Amelia looked at each other with small smiles and nodded up at Jakob enthusiastically. 

“That’s it,” Jakob murmured, tightening his hold on Jean as he felt her transfer more of her weight onto him as her knees bent deeper.

Behind her, Joy and Amelia spread pads over a wide area of the floor and began to prepare for the baby’s arrival.

“Are you happy standing, Jean?” Joy asked.

Jean nodded.

“Just let us know if you change your mind and we’ve got plenty of options for you.”

They all watched as Jean grunted her way through another four contractions. The midwives could see that the urge to push was getting stronger with each wave but, for some reason, Jean was refusing to give in to it.

“Jean,” Joy said, moving into her eyeline. “When you feel that big urge to push, don’t be afraid to give in and go with it. You’re nice and upright, bending your knees, making those grunty sounds every time now, and we can see that you’re fully dilated so don’t be afraid of giving in.”

“I don’t want to,” Jean squeaked, shaking and frightened.

“You’re completely safe,” Joy assured her. “We’re all here and your baby is ready to come. Jakob’s got you.”

Yet, still, when it was time to push again, Jean held back even though her body was screaming at her to bear down. When it was over, Jakob nodded at Joy and Amelia, who immediately took the hint and made themselves busy at the far end of the spacious room.

“Jean,” Jakob said quietly. “Look at me.”

She peeled herself away from him and vaguely noticed that the front of his shirt was almost saturated with her sweat.

“There’s nothing to be frightened of,” he continued. “This baby’s birth is nothing like your first.”

At that, Jean immediately burst into tears. Harsh, shuddering sobs made her shoulders shake as she stood in front of him while he calmly held her by her waist.

“Our baby wants to come out now, why don’t you let him, hmm?”

“I will,” Jean hiccupped as her tears subsided.

Jakob kissed her fully on the mouth before proceeding to wipe her sweaty, tear-soaked face and neck with a cold flannel and securing her messy ponytail into a more secure bun.

“You are so beautiful,” he told her, cupping her face lightly.

She melted back into him and they began to sway lightly together on the spot. Joy and Amelia silently returned to their previous positions and the pushing commenced with vigour.

Long, heaving efforts pulsated from every fibre of Jean’s being as she fought to bring her son down. She pulled on Jakob and shifted her hips restlessly as she worked. Everyone around her was mostly silent, communicating with her through the softest of touches and only speaking in hushed voices to ask her permission to touch the doppler to her low-hanging belly to check the baby’s heartrate after every two contractions.

Everyone present sunk into her steady rhythm, allowed Jean to lead by following her body’s cues and were happy to hold space for her while she danced the most primal dance of her life.

Then, after almost two hours of active pushing, Jean sucked in a sharp intake of breath and rose up onto her toes.

“Oh!” she almost shrieked. “It’s so…sharp!”

“That’s the start of your baby’s head,” Amelia said, beaming up at them. “He’s gone back in now but he’ll keep going backwards and forwards for a little bit until he’s ready.”

Jean screwed her face up against the stinging, feeling her baby emerging and retreating just as Amelia said he would. Jakob used his thumbs to create tiny circles in the centre of her perspiring back as he held her securely, and Jean attempted to focus on the feeling of his touch above all else. A particularly powerful push brought the baby to a full crown.

“Stop pushing now, Jean,” Joy called up to her. “Just pant and let your baby do the work for you both.”

“Oh god, I can feel him!” Jean cried.

“I know, honey, just breathe,” Jakob soothed.

“He’s hurting me!”

“He doesn’t mean to.”

“You’re doing brilliantly, Jean,” Amelia encouraged. “Just keep panting and listen to Joy.”

“I can’t stay standing anymore!” Jean cried, her legs shaking almost violently.

“It’s alright,” Joy said, the epitome of calm.

“Why don’t we squat?” Jakob suggested.

Jean was unable to reply and instead began to sink down to the floor, her arms still wrapped around Jakob’s neck as he moved with her.

“Perfect,” Joy praised, tilting her head to look at the baby’s protruding forehead.

After wobbling precariously for a few seconds, Jean moved to her hands and knees, allowing Jakob to quickly stretch out his back before diligently wiping her face and kissing her forehead. The space between her contractions was beginning to lengthen.

“Do you want to touch your baby?” Joy asked.

Jean reached between her legs and touched the top of her son’s slippery head for the first time.

“Oh, Jakob,” she gasped, feeling suddenly grounded in what she was doing.

She reached for his hand and encouraged him closer, pulling at his wrist to bring his fingers to touch the mass her own palm had just vacated.

“Can he?” she asked, her head shooting up.

“Whatever you’d like,” Amelia smiled. “It’s your body.”

Jakob beamed upon touching his son for the first time and lowered himself to rest his cheek against Jean’s as they explored together with soft, tentative strokes.

“Another one,” Jean groaned, batting Jakob away.

He chuckled and reassumed his kneeling position in front of her and watched in awe.

“Stop pushing and pant, Jean,” Joy guided. “The head’ll be out with this one I think!”

Jakob put one hand on Jean’s waist and scooted around to her side, craning to watch as Jean panted and grunted, and their son’s head was slowly born.

“Oh wow,” he breathed. “He’s beautiful.”

Though he had seen it twice before, the sight of the baby’s head rotating as he sought to free his shoulders brought tears to his eyes.

“Nearly there, my love,” he whispered into Jean’s shoulder.

“You birthed his head beautifully there, Jean,” Joy said. “When you get your next contraction give a few big pushes and he’ll be born.”

Jean nodded. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, feel sweat dripping from what seemed like every pore in her body and could smell the earthy scent of birth as she readied herself for it all to be over. And it soon was. She felt another huge tightening and groaned loudly as she threw everything into pushing for what she hoped would be the last two, three, four more times.

Then, a gasp, loud and relieved, from her or Jakob she didn’t know because all of a sudden she felt relief like no other. Another gush of fluid soaked her thighs, legs and feet and she heard a small gurgle from between her legs. Looking down, she saw the face of her baby boy for the first time- purple and red and squashed but completely perfect in every way.

Without knowing how she had gathered the strength to move, Jean found herself on her knees with her squealing newborn held to her chest, her own hands supported by Joy’s while Jakob braced her shoulders and laughed delightedly at her side. Her mouth opened slightly but no sound came out as she stared down at their baby. She looked up into Joy’s beaming face.

“You’ve done it,” the midwife told her. “He’s here.”


End file.
